“What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well...”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Something about myself: I can't decide if I'm a hopeless romantic or not. Romanticism is sometimes, as I see it, this this sense of making things overly-experiential or dramaticized. The primary definition of romanticism is "a movement in the arts and literature that originated in the late 18th century, emphasizing inspiration, subjectivity, and the primacy of the individual." To be subjective, in turn, means "based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes, or opinions." (Dictionary.com is a wonderful place of quick study!) Why do I bring up this borderline babble? Because like many people, I tend to want to view suffering, like many things, according to how it pertains to my individualistic self. To be a Christ-follower, I learn (and am still learning) is to be willing to look away from the temporal, and keep the "heavenly reality" in perspective.
In recent events, I've witnessed (and in part experienced) this wave I've seen through friends and family that has resulted in moments of great emotional stress, whether it be personal loss, emotional loss, or drastic changes in which some might be tempted to blame God. I've seen more loss around me in recent months more than I have in the past three years. I see people tempted to get angry with God, whether it's the loss of a parent, sibling, an unborn child, or anywhere in between. I've not suffered to this level, and recently I was awakened to this naivete towards life that I never knew was there.
During my pre-mission's field training, one subject we were encouraged to explore is this "Theology of Suffering": the act of being able to worship and draw in to God when everything else falls like a house of cards. What does this mean to me? This I'm still exploring, though I know it's necessity. As a person called to the warzone of Europe, I am expected to be willing to completely loose all senses of entitlement. The only thing Christ-followers are ever ensured to have is God's presence, nothing more. I'm not even ensured I will live through the next two years.
My own reality of suffering started hitting me when the fundraising became difficult. July was a period of stretching. Going was slow, people were not getting back to me/rejecting me in terms of support. I had a mountain that I was barely chilzeling at. I would pray for support, encouragement, and peace. I was only guaranteed peace during that process. My heart ached because I was so vulnerable and discouraged. I struggled moving forward, creeping into disparity. Even now, after seasons of encouragement and some growth, I'm still tempted to fall back and see the thin ice around me start to slowly crack. Yet that peace never leaves me. Like a palm tree thrashed by a hurricane, there's only one critical spot that can't budge: the base. it doesn't really matter what happens to the rest of the tree so long as the roots are there.
And to think, this was only a LITTLE suffering and I felt like dirt! Now at this point I'm faced with two choices: either I can wallow and focus on my own flesh, or I can keep moving--breathing--drawing closer to God. How does that happen, though? It's never good to ignore/stuff grief to this scale. It's just not healthy to avoid such things, nor does God expect us to do so! Wallowing is the far extreme result of this, I've found. For what is internalized and allowed to rot eventually seeps out. This is the pride in owning our own suffering.
WHAT I LEARNED: The remedy has three-steps (as I observe):
1: Never stuff it, let it take its course. Find a spot where grief or pain can be reaseased before God. This can be done through accountability, pilgrimage, or some combination where God shows up in a meaningful way.
2: Find the Olive Branches. Noah was surrounded by a water, no safety in sight. What did God do? He allowed a dove to return with an olive branch. This was a sign that beyond what was observable there was good things happening. There just needs to be that little flutter of God showing is presence, something good that shows that God is still in dominion. This is the most difficult, since moments like these, the ones in the middle of suffering, where it's often difficult to want to draw close to God. What little things does God show that he's still working to your advantage?
3: Return. Suffering does cause us to feel distant from ourselves, those close to us, and God. (Technically speaking, steps 2 and 3 are linked. Olive Branches are great at bringing us back to God.) What does it look like to be at a place where you're able to move forward with God? be able to return to moving towards God in prayer and worship.
Now we return full circle: Romanticism is a fickle thing. I brought this up in the beginning because I would often fall victim to treating my own suffering as some, poetic justice, making myself victimized to my environment and by God. Otherwise put, I'd cry "woe is me! I am falling victim to some great tragedy!" This is fantasy. Suffering can be tangible and a tool for God, but that requires to have a foundation of substance. That level of substance needs to be rooted in that God's realm is where we belong, not the one where we currently are. This tackles the illusion of immortality, thinking that we own our own souls, and that somehow we must safeguard what is ours from harm. Christ-followers don't own anything, but surrender their own selves for God to own; so any suffering is really intended for us to secure our link to Christ, whose ministry had suffering as a cornerstone.
This is not something everyone arrives at instantaneously (talking to myself mainly with this line.) I certainly don't have all the answers with that, nor do I pretend to do so. At a distance with hindsight as a good teacher, I'm thankful for the little doses of reality that suffering is, indeed, a tool to strengthen our link to Christ. I say this as encouragement and training for others to potentially recognize how God plans on growing us in His reality.